No Thanks to the Tumcake
by MandaScooby
Summary: Eating a delicious cake has less-than-desirable results. And, of course, it's snowing. One-shot


**A/N I don't own SGA**

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Ronon let out a contented sigh as he pushed away from the table, careful of his foot that was propped up on the chair next to him. He leaned back and crossed his arms against his stomach. That was a much better dinner than the ravioli that would have been waiting for them in the mess hall. The food on Atlantis went in cycles, going from delicious to disgusting on a schedule that directly correlated to the Dedalus schedule. The Dedalus was due back in just over a week, which meant that those on kitchen duty had been "scraping the bottom of the barrel" as Rodney like to say. But ravioli? That was more like scraping the bottom of the aluminum can… Tumcakes were a much tastier alternative.

"That was a wonderful meal, Drashtyn," Teyla told their hostess as both women rose from the table and began to clear away the plates. Ronon thought that was an understatement. The meal had been nothing short of heavenly. They'd started with a salad of green and purple vegetables, mixed with a sweet and tangy, sticky dressing. Then Bentrak had brought out the fowl, the bread, and the alcohol. The finishing touch was a small navy blue cake for each of them. To Ronon, the dessert's taste resembled vanilla but with an almost fruity quality. Some type of nut or bean gave it a satisfying crunch every few bites. Maybe Teyla could talk Drashtyn into giving up the recipe as part of their trade negotions.

"Yes," John agreed, looking out the window, drawing Ronon's attention to the snow that seemed to be blowing horizontally from the gusts of wind that shook the house every few minutes, "Thank you for letting us impose on you like this."

"It is not imposing," Drashtyn cooed, her eyes revealing her pleasure at having guests. She added with a small chuckle, "it's a nice change from the monotony."

Bentrak, her husband, also stood and began gathering the utensils and used napkins, "Drashtyn loves company. Any excuse to show off the house. Besides, what kind of friendship would we be building if we turned you out into the storm?"

McKay shuddered. "I thought it was supposed to be spring on this planet."

"Apparently, their groundhog didn't see its shadow. Six more weeks of winter, Rodney."

Ronon thought about asking for an explanation to Sheppard's statement, but then decided against it. They usually ignored his questions, and when they didn't he'd end up listening to one of McKay's long-winded back stories that was needed for "context" and would still receive no real answer to his query.

"And," Sheppard continued, " we would have beaten the storm if McKay could ever stick to a time table, but after forty years-"

Rodney cut him off with a smack to the arm. "Why not just announce my age to the whole galaxy?! Besides, I didn't see the mayor complaining that I not only made their crappy turbines working again, but also made vast improvements to their efficiency and output, leading to power for the whole village, something they've only had in their town square for this last half decade, what with only one turbine running and at only 14% capacity!" Rodney paused his rant when Ronon guffawed at that point. Realizing he hadn't said anything particularly funny, McKay turned to see Sheppard mimicking a little puppet with his hand. With a frustrated growl, and a jut of his chin, Rodney continued on. "That power cooked your meal, Colonel, so I think you should be treating me with a little more respect. Plus, we still couldn't have beaten the storm, because Conan over there twisted his ankle."

Sheppard grimaced at the reminder and sent a sympathetic look Ronon's way.

It was actually very painful, and Ronon didn't appreciate his sprain being downgraded to a twisted ankle, but McKay did have a point. He would have slowed them down had they tried to tempt fate, and likely they'd be out in the blizzard in the dark instead of in a warm, dry, well-lit home. But then again… he grinned triumphantly when a thought occurred to him, transferring the blame back to McKay. "I wouldn't have sprained my ankle if you would have been back at town square when we agreed. We wouldn't have come looking for you, and I wouldn't have stuck my foot through that wooden sidewalk at the refinery."

"There is still one tumcake left!" Drashtyn sang above the argument that was commencing. As one, all three of the Atlantis men lunged for the plate. Ronon didn't really want it, but he knew McKay did, and that was enough to awaken his competitive spirit. Sheppard threw his hands up in surrender when his two teammates each maintained a vice-like grip on either side of the plate.

"Stop this!" Teyla said loudly, reaching over their arms and snatching the pastry right off the plat. She lifted it above their heads. "There were enough tumcakes for each of us to have one. I saw both of you devour yours at dinner. I do not believe John has had his yet."

Ronon and McKay watched, open-mouthed, as the Athosian then deposited the cake into Sheppard's waiting hand.

"Thanks, Teyla," he said with a wink. He then proceeded to make a show of breaking off a piece of the tumcake and bringing it slowly to his face. He held it close to his nose and inhaled deeply. "Mmmm. Smells tasty. Like those little trees you hang on you mirror."

"How do you hang a tree from a mirror?" Ronon asked despite himself, half-expecting/half-hoping to receive no answer from the Earth men.

He was not disappointed.

Sheppard sniffed it again and Rodney groaned. "Just eat it already!"

And so he did, very methodically. He chewed with his eyes closed, moaning dramatically with pleasure.

"Ok, Young Frankenstein, that's enough yummy noises," McKay whined, "if you're going to eat it that slow, you might as well share."

Sheppard swallowed. "I don't think so, Rodney."

He reached for his water glass and took a long drink.

"You're killing me," Rodney whined, keeping Ronon entertained and Teyla annoyed.

John reached for the cake once more and ripped off another chunk. But instead of bringing it to his mouth he held it in his hand and looked at it curiously. He coughed.

Rodney slid down in his seat. "Yes, it's very pretty to look at. Can you please get it over with? My tastebuds are salivating in jealousy!"

Sheppard reached for the glass once more with his free hand; said hand changed course as he coughed again, coming to rest on his sternum.

"John!" Teyla said in alarm, concern coloring her voice. "Are you alright?"

The coughing fit turned silent, but Sheppard's body was still bucking like he was still coughing, and Ronon realized he was trying to get air. But John couldn't be choking, Ronon thought, he'd just drank almost a full glass of water. How could his airway be blocked? Teyla's concern in addition to the widening of John's eyes put Ronon on alert.

Sheppard opened his mouth to answer Teyla, but all he managed was a hollow sounding gasp. The tumcake in his hand had been squeezed into dough, and his other hand was grasping hopelessly at his shirt collar.

There was a loud bang, and a small shout of surprise. Ronon looked away from Sheppard in time to see McKay disappear through the kitchen door, Drashtyn left in his wake standing in the doorway with a hand over her heart, the wooden chair Rodney had previously occupied was tipped over, rocking on the floor.

Teyla was at John's side now, and the Colonel was wheezing, gasping for air like a fish on a shore. His lips were already beginning to turn blue.

"John, what is happening?" She asked, then turning her attention to Ronon she shouted, "I don't understand what he is choking on."

"He's not choking." McKay was back. "Move."

Teyla scrambled out of his way without a second thought and McKay was quit to take her place. He had his tac vest in one hand and a yellow-orange tube in the other. The vest was dropped unceremoniously at his feet. He yanked the blue cap off the tube and then stabbed it into Sheppard's thigh. The effect was almost instantaneous, relief washed over John's features and he began to breathe easier.

As he held the injector in place, Rodney looked up from his patient to the four sets of stunned eyes on him. His gaze scanned over Ronon and paused at Teyla. "We need Keller. Now. It's a two-hour walk to the gate, so I suggest you run. Bring back a jumper."

"But the storm," Bentrak started. He swallowed the rest of his sentence, however, when McKay's hard glare landed on him.

"I have a motor cart. It is not fast, but it will be safer and warmer than running in the snow. I will come with you, Teyla."

Teyla expressed her thanks and the two of them moved to the room where the team had deposited their gear, and where Bentrak and Drashtyn kept their winter clothes.

"Good," Rodney said to their retreating backs. Then he turned to Drashtyn, "There's a chance this medicine will make him throw up. Do you have a bucket or something?"

The tall woman nodded mutely and disappeared out the door. Teyla and Bentrak had finished bundling up and were on their way out the front door. Teyla hesitated in the entryway, "Rodney, I do not understand what has happened. What shall I tell Doctor Keller so she can be prepared for the situation?"

"Tell her John's had an allergic reaction. I used my epipen, which isn't strictly recommended, but it's not like we can call 911 from here," he realized he was rambling and stopped, at the same time removing the injector from his friend's leg, "tell her I used my epipen and it's the only one we have. I have benadryl, but-"

This time Rodney was cut off by Sheppard squeezing his forearm.

"My vest," John breathed.

"Your vest? This is my vest." Rodney lifted the tac vest at his feet.

"Epi-" he coughed.

"You have an epipen in your vest?"

Sheppard nodded.

"You mean you knew you had life threatening allergies and didn't bother to alert your team?!" McKay's face began to turn red.

Sheppard shook his head and squeezed Rodney's forearm a little tighter.

"No?"

John stuck a pointed finger into his best friend's chest.

"Me?" Rodney squeaked.

More nodding.

"You carry an epipen for me?" Rodney asked in wonder. "Wow, I don't-" he trailed off, sensing eyes on him, and looked away from John back to the room at large. "Well, go already! He could have a secondary reaction while we're all just sitting here! Tell Keller he's had an allergic reaction and that I had to use my epipen."

Teyla nodded. Bentrak pulled open the door, letting in a cold gust of wind, and then he and Teyla hurried off into the twilight.

"I'll just… get the guest room ready," Drashtyn said, setting the requested bucket on the table before disappearing once more.

Ronon couldn't help feeling a bit useless sitting as he was, across the room from his teammates, with his leg propped up. He watched as McKay and Sheppard spoke quietly to one another. He had to admit he was proud at how Rodney had taken charge and handled the situation. While Ronon had been numbly wondering how Sheppard could possibly be choking on water, Rodney had already sprang from the table to grab the life saving medicine. Even now, he was still helping.

"Do you need to puke?" Rodney asked as he reached for the bucket.

"Not yet," John said.

"Ok then. Take these."

Ronon watched as the scientist pressed two pink pills into his CO's hand, ordering him to swallow them. Sheppard wasn't known to take orders from just anyone, but when they came from Doctor McKay, he didn't even hesitate.

When the pill were gone, Sheppard handed his glass to Rodney and gave hime a lopsided smile. "I feel like crap."

Rodney grinned back. "Tell me about it."

The two men let out a commiserating chuckle, and Ronon realized that McKay had experienced this before. From Sheppard's side. At least once in his life, Rodney had been the one turning blue from lack of oxygen.

And now that he thought about it, he felt like he was a little slow on the uptake. He'd heard McKay warning of his allergies, but hadn't ever really taken the man seriously. The man was a hypochondriac and it was just citrus, right?

But tonight he'd learned, it wasn't hypochondria. And it definitely wasn't about being a picky eater. All McKay's gripings, and annoying probing questions had been about this. A severe allergic reaction. It was more than being a little itchy, or getting an annoying rash, or even swelling up. This life or death. This is what McKay had been trying to avoid.

How many times had this happened to Rodney? Enough that he knew the symptoms immediately and had acted without hesitation. He had saved Sheppard's life, while Ronon had just sat there, frozen in time, unable and unqualified to help.

A few minutes later, and with a lot of assistance from their selfless hostess, the three Atlantis men were situated in Drashtyn's guest room. John was sleeping peacefully on a bed, propped up with several pillows. McKay had assured him that sleeping was ok, and it was most likely a result of the little pink pills he'd given Sheppard earlier.

Rodney was perched on top of the same bed at the Colonel's feet, back against the wall, forearms resting on his knees. Ronon was at the head of the bed on a kitchen chair, keeping his injured foot elevated on the bed as well. Both Ronon and Rodney were quiet for a long while after Drashtyn had left them alone, just listening to the reassuring sound of their friend's deep breathing.

"I don't think we'll need the other one," Rodney said, breaking the silence.

"The other what?" Ronon asked, perplexed.

"The other epipen. It wasn't as bad as … as it could have been. I almost feel bad for kicking Teyla out in the snow."

Ronon smiled. "Don't. She wouldn't feel bad about it. It's Sheppard."

"It's always Sheppard," Rodney mused, "he's like a magnet for trouble."

Ronon gave him a look. "No more than you."

Rodney put a hand to his chin, pretending to be thinking about it, "ya, I guess you are right. We're a couple of bad luck charms."

"I think you were good luck, tonight."

Rodney didn't respond to that last comment and silence descended upon the room once more.

At some point they must have fallen asleep, because the next thing Ronon knew he was waking up to the feeling of a cold gust of wind. He sat up, carefully moving his swollen ankle off the bed and leaned towards the door listening. He couldn't make out the words but he recognized the voices. He heard Drashtyn's voice and then Teyla's. Both women were talking in low tones so as to not wake the sleeping men. He continued listening until another voice joined. That voice was unmistakable and had him up on his feet before he remembered he was injured. But he didn't care. That one voice would make everything ok.

Keller.

The cavalry had arrived.

Ronon carefully limped down the hall and into the kitchen.

"Hey, guys," he greeted quietly, pleased to find Keller had not come alone. She had a nurse with her. And Major Lorne. That meant there was a jumper. That meant they could finally go home.

"Ronon," Keller said. She quickly closed the remaining distance between them, dragging a chair along. Teyla had made her aware of Ronon's sprained ankle as well. She pushed him into the chair and asked, "How is John?"

"Sleeping."

"Has McKay-" her question was drowned out by a loud CRASH!

The whole party turned to the direction of the clatter, the direction Ronon had just come from.

Rodney's perturbed voice rang down the hallway. "What the hell, Sheppard?"

"Oh, hey, McKay! What are you doing on the floor?" Sheppard's voice asked, sounding sleepy and genuinely confused.

"You kicked me off the bed!" Came the indignant answer.

"What?" Sheppard's voice rose in both pitch and volume. "Why were you in my bed?"

"I wasn't in your bed, I was on your bed! It's an important distinction!"

Keller began to chuckle, and started leading the group, minus Ronon, towards the cacophony, "If that's any indication, I think he'll be just fine. No thanks to McKay."

"You're wrong," Ronon said to himself once he was alone in the kitchen, "He'll be fine. All thanks to McKay."

No thanks to the tumcake.


End file.
